I like your feathered hair. It reminds me of my 1979 senior photo when I used so much hairspray that it made it difficult for me to smile normally. And I like how you gun your engine at the stop light we find ourselves waiting at. The VROOM VROOM brings a bit of character to this human scene. Especially, I like the cherry red color of your gigantic Trans-Am. How the car itself seems to hold you like a tiny infant, as if you were about to be birthed. And, finally, dear sir, I can’t help but mentioning the freakish eagle on the hood of your car—how its wings seem to span the universe and communicate some kind of message from Foreigner. I know you think they are a kick-ass band and I know that for a brief moment, as you blast RUSH from the innards of your automobile that it is only a matter of time until Hot Blooded will seep out into the atmosphere from your holy little house on wheels. I may be gone by that time, our paths may have separated at that point but just in case I don’t get to tell you, can you do me a favor and turn it the hell down?
Me No Likey The Loudy,