lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Miss Information Okay, first of all, I want to say that what follows has no bearing on the fact that I still believe W. to be hugely responsible for this gas... crisis? Mess? Clusterfuck? Whatever. Also, if you're a Republican, you can keep your complaints to yourself. Any and all information about how this was going to happen was readily available not only at your local library, but as close as the closest PC. And if you didn't educate yourself, well, that's your business, but why you would assume that these four years would be any different than the preceding four is beyond me. That said, gas didn't go up again. Right now (and I do mean "right now," as in "prices may have gone up since I got home a half hour ago"), they're holding at around $2.54 a gallon. Which is ridiculous, but not as bad as $3.10. Which was a typo. I didn't realize I'd said that until someone commented on it. I meant to say $3.01, which is almost equally outrageous, but not at all what I'd heard. As for what I heard... Don't pay attention to all the doomcryers (especially, it turns out, me). I heard it from a girl at work, whose mom had called her when she saw gas for $3.01. Supposedly. So, don't panic, and I'll try to stop, too. And buy a bike with a flowered basket. You'll need it for your groceries once it's cheaper to buy a new car than it is to put the gas in it. 3:07 PM - 14 August 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fuck the President, Fuck Gas Gas prices here are going up to $3.10 a gallon. If you're a Republican, I don't want to hear one motherfucking peep out of you. Call up your very best friend W. and ask him to open up our nation's oil reserves. Because OPEC has us bent over, but W. is the one fucking us up the asses. 5:27 PM - 12 August 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Newsflash from DS A mother got carjacked today and her baby was taken along with the car (it was returned later and the baby was fine. It had even beed fed). DS's reaction? "Carjackers are assholes." Oh, ya think? Let's see what other headlines we can glean from my insightful friend: War is Bad Cancer Sucks Murder Isn't Very Nice Domestic Violence: A Mean Thing To Do and the last one... Sandy is a Colossal Bitch 1:15 AM - 12 August 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Terror of Knowing What This World Is About I don't normally advocate violence in my diary, unless it furthers my goals or can somehow benefit me financially. But this time, I do it for the love of my favorite band ever, the band that carved my way through adolescence, the band that taught me what being "proud as a peacock" meant. The band that gave me hope, even when it seemed like there should be none. That's the difference between having a favorite band that you started liking when you were 8, or even 20, and finding one when you're 13. When you're going through puberty, the whole world is about you. A diet pill commercial is put on the air to tell you you're fat, and Jordan Knight is telling you that he'll be loving you forever. But Queen, for me, wasn't about a crush (thought I still have one on Brian May and his guitar and his massive hair, rivaled only by my sister's). It was about drama, and guitar solos that made my stomach drop, and clear strong notes, held until just before my heart broke. It was lyrics that were so familiar it was as if I remembered writing them in a previous life. It was the purity of rock and roll and opera and rockabilly and classical music all rolled together and fused into one great sparkling dramatic hairy-chested flaming ball of music. And yes, it was overwrought. Freddie Mercury came out of the womb overwrought, I'm sure, wailing melodically and kicking his little chicken legs, strutting before he could walk. It was so grand and flamboyant that for almost any singer, anywhere, it would be impossible to overdo it. Yet somehow, Joss Stone manages it. She takes the one single song that united Queen and someone who could easily go blow-for-blow with them in a match of who could be the most outrageously sexually-charged Brit, and just... screams it. "Under Pressure" is a desparate song. It's about a lot of things, but at its core, it's a comment on the human condition. The scatting Freddie Mercury does, instead of detracting from the seriousness of the tone, adds to the chaotic feel of a carefully arranged song. So why does Joss Stone feel that it's her duty to undertake ruining a great pop rock song? I don't know. But I know why I feel that it's my duty to hunt her down like the howling no-talent hack that she is. She has put a mark on my favorite band, and that is not something to be taken lightly. 11:19 PM - 09 August 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How to Get the Attention of Any Guy Within a 5-Mile Radius, As Long As He Isn't Related To You
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