Today’s MLM is brought to you with the Rolling Stones and Start Me Up.
I ummed and ahhhed about putting on the original 1981 video but I decided I was going to because if Mick Jagger in what looks like Hanoi Jane Fonda’s workout gear doesn’t make you smile this Monday, nothing will.
I don’t know what makes me laugh more – Mick’s bizarre dancing, his pants, his skin-tight leotard thing, Keith Richards’ unkempt hair, Charlie Watts’ wry smile or the fact that Mick Jagger reminds me of a guy I know called Mossy. I like it where Charlie Watts is dying laughing and just can’t keep a straight face. Gotta love Keef and Mick. Let’s face it, Mick Jagger only just manages to keep it this side of cringingly-embarrassing-Paul-McCartneyesque. The only thing that saves him is just how good this song is. Bowie almost ended up on the Paul McCartney heap around about the same time, but has managed to retrieve himself. Funnily enough, I found a copy of the Absolute Beginners LP in a 12″ bin at a vide grenier a couple of weeks ago. That says it all. He was in there with Haircut 100 and Demis Roussos. It’s something when you are stuck in the 80s between a little-known boyband and a fat Greek. Lucky for Dave, he managed to redeem himself and is now legendary cool. He manages to look like he hasn’t had too much cosmetic surgery or hair dye. I cannot bear to speak of Paul McCartney.
So what do I love this MLM?
Well, I’m not loving the rain. No sirree. That can just get to feck. I didn’t move here to be cold in May. Can you believe I’m still turning the electric blanket on of an evening? Bah.
To be fair, it’s intemperate, as Shakespeare would have said. Sometimes it’s cracking the flags and then the next day, it’s barely scraping double figures.
The grass is long and out of control once more. The rain is very good for my plants, and it is warmer than it was last May, believe it or not. Plus, there is the promise of fruit. That’s a good thing.
I’m loving having ladies to talk to who are actually interested in management theory and in reflective triads and shadow sides and all sorts of stuff I’d started to get interested in back in 2007ish. It’s nice to be able to chat and chat about interesting, grown-up stuff.
But I love that I have silly friends too. And I don’t mean stupid or airheaded. I mean funny and daft. If you can’t have a laugh, this life is not worth living. That’s for sure. If you can’t see the funny side, then it’s probably not worth seeing the serious side. It will just depress you.
I love the stinkers, including the one who was so overcome with the chase urge that he disappeared for a full half hour or so and nearly gave me laryngitis calling for him. He’s lying on his back, his legs stretched full out, and, if you can believe it, he is smiling. I have a freaky smiling dog. The other stinker, the most stinky of the stinkers, is lying on the couch looking like the sweetest little thing. If you had no sense of smell, you would have no idea of the stench emanating from her foul body. Having a nose, you may well wonder why she smells like rotten flesh. This is because she is a filth-hound. Being cute and blonde does not mean that she is all Marilyn. She’s a dirty, dirty stink hound. She’s supposed to look like this:
In fact, we saw a couple of American cockers like this at the vide grenier a couple of weeks ago. Shannon asked me what breed they were. I told her they were the same as Tilly and she nearly died laughing. I’m pretty sure Tilly would not want to look like this. It doesn’t go with her Shirley Maclaine rooting in a bin bag look. I figure if she wanted to look like ^^^^^ she’d stop bin dipping and eating cat turds. It can’t just be my choice for her to look like this.
Anyway, it’s not like I would want her to look like a show-dog. I like it when she looks unkempt.
Incidentally, I just looked at Dave Jones’ Wikipedia page and it says that Rolling Stone voted him 39th best artist of all time. Who the hell did they have from 38 up???! Did Jesus have a band? Did the Archangel Gabriel rock out with Bruce Springsteen? I investigated further and Paul Simon is number 40. That’s insane. How are there 38 artists better than these two? They put Madonna above both of them. And above John Lennon (38) I’m so totally freaked out by that I might need to have a lie down. To be fair, I can kind of see that the other people are great artists too, like Johnny Cash, but there’s no way JC is better than Ziggy Stardust. NO WAY in the world. The Who are 29. What’s that about? They’re not an artist. They’re a band.
And so I’ve accidentally worked myself up into a frenzy where I am going to have to write a stern letter to the Rolling Stone magazine, explaining that they might think it’s cool to put JC and Smokey Robinson above the Man Who Fell To Earth, but there’s no way on earth it’s logically possible. Not a one. I looked through the rest. There was a lot of pretentiousness in that top 38. And a lot of bands. They don’t even count. That puts Bob Dylan as number 1 artist. I can live with that.
Anyway, the Stones started me up and it’s quite obvious I’m not going to stop now. Better keep going… off to the prefecture. God give me strength.